In the mid-1990's, after accepting the call to an evangelical church in Naperville, Illinois, one of my members offered to drive me around town. He wanted to show me one of the successful ministries in the community. That church, Calvary Church, was not only the largest congregation in Naperville; it was one of the largest in the Assemblies of God.

"Here is where Calvary Church began," he said, pointing to a small wood-frame building that looked like a typical Midwest church in the 1940s. From there we drove 2 miles to an attractive school-like facility that looked like it could accommodate several times more people. "This is Calvary’s second location. Their school still meets here."

My eyes widened as I scanned the 10 acres on which the impressive-looking structure stood. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the third and present site. I was already intimidated.

"This is where Calvary Church meets now," Larry said, indicating an enormous brick complex. The impressive campus with a 50-foot high white cross was situated on 30 acres. He smiled. "Some church, eh?"

Although I politely concurred, inside I was struggling with a myriad of emotions. I had just moved my wife and three young daughters 2,400 miles to a place where I believed God wanted me to serve. We were missing family and friends. What had become familiar and secure was far away. I wondered how long it would take to become accepted by a new congregation. Now there were the feelings related to doing ministry in the shadow of a megachurch 5 minutes from the church I pastored.

Develop a Positive Attitude Toward Megachurches
Those who pastor a smaller church in close proximity to a larger church know the feelings I felt that day. "You can’t avoid at times thinking, What’s wrong with me?" admits Dave Huff, who pastors a small Baptist congregation in Naperville. "Though you look back to your call to ministry with varying degrees of confidence, the sense of inadequacy is overwhelming at times. Your significance is reduced in your own eyes by the mass migration of believers flocking to what is, in their minds, a more fulfilling ministry." 

I found myself dealing with the same inner doubts. I knew I wasn’t as gifted as Bob Schmidgall. He was an All-American quarterback. I wasn’t even third string, let alone on the varsity squad. What I felt was akin to those days in grade school when we had to do the 600-yard run or walk. While my classmates, more athletically inclined, sprinted the whole way, I was winded after 200 yards. My face was red as much from embarrassment as it was from being chubby and slow. As I struggled to catch my breath, I gave in to feelings of inadequacy and failure.

In addition to an inferiority complex, I dealt with covetous feelings. I wasn’t focusing on the Lord and His sufficiency to accomplish a fruitful ministry through me in a church where the pews were few. Instead, my eyes looked longingly at Calvary Church and their multimillion-dollar budget. The weeds of envy flourish in the shade of dissatisfaction (especially if you water them with drools of desire). I had read articles that Bob Schmidgall had written for Christian magazines. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. What he had already experienced was the very thing I’d dreamed of doing.

My feelings about Calvary Church began to change within a month of my arrival in Naperville. On the Sunday I was formally installed as pastor, a bouquet of flowers arrived. The tag attached to the arrangement of mums read, "Welcome to our community. May your ministry grow with fragrance and beauty." It was signed by Bob and Karen Schmidgall. What a magnanimous gesture from someone who didn’t have any cause to know who I was. I began to question my premature judgment of a man and a ministry I really didn’t even know.

What a magnanimous gesture from someone who didn’t have any cause to know who I was. I began to question my premature judgment of a man and a ministry I really didn’t even know.

Two weeks later I attended the monthly luncheon of the local ministers. Who was the convener? None other than Bob Schmidgall. As I walked up to introduce myself, I was conscious of how large a man he was. His stature seemed appropriate, given the size of his church. As I stood in his shadow, dwarfed by his presence, I didn’t feel insignificant. It was obvious that Bob was not impressed by his own press clippings. He put on no airs. He was no different than the other 20 of us (except for the fact his congregation was 20 times larger). He took the initiative to neutralize the acid of comparison that had been bubbling continuously in my belly. And I was grateful.

Another step I took to get beyond my own feelings was along the path of partnership. I asked Bob if he would speak at our annual stewardship banquet. He graciously agreed. My willingness to approach him as a colleague and not as a threat released envy’s stranglehold. In turn, Bob asked me to preach at an evening service. His overture of collegiality was unexpected, but welcomed. When he introduced me to his congregation, he called me a good friend. As he spoke those words, whatever jealousy continued to cloud my perspective quickly evaporated. (Large church pastors, take note. You have the power to release smaller church pastors from the suffocating hold of jealousy by simply befriending them and treating them as equals.)

Recognize the Benefits of Pastoring Near Megachurches
By the time I’d been at my church a year, I had come to appreciate some of the unique opportunities pastors who are overshadowed by megachurches enjoy. In the heat of ministry I found it refreshing to be in the shadows. Smaller church pastors don’t feel the same pressure to live up to unrealistic expectations as do prominent pastors. They don’t have to give in to the same demands to impress a community of onlookers. I relaxed in being myself. There was an indescribable joy in ministering to those who faithfully attended week after week. The fact these committed members were there because they wanted to hear me preach compensated for the public adulation that was lacking. 

"Large church pastors don’t know how ‘cool’ it is to be able to call each person in the congregation by name," observes Craig Blair, who pastors Central Church across town from Calvary. "There is a depth of ministry that can only occur when your church is a certain size. When you can enter into the individual hopes and dreams as well as the hurdles and nightmares of your people, you have the opportunity to express the shepherding love of God tangibly."

Another benefit of ministering in the shadows is the impetus to keep striving and strategizing to grow. Large churches that have reached a certain level of attendance may not feel as motivated to reach out. While they do have increased budgets to meet and programs to staff, they may sense that they have already reached a plateau of purpose on which they could graze indefinitely.

"When you are a small church, you don’t have the luxury to think you have arrived," Dave Huff adds. "Your survival depends on staying focused and on your knees. When you don’t have many members, you discover flavors of God’s faithfulness you didn’t know existed. You also have the freedom to fail that bigger congregations don’t have."

Although change in smaller churches can be resisted by power brokers who claim ownership of the congregation, this isn’t always true. The freedom to try the new approaches Dave Huff speaks of is a definite benefit that goes with pastoring smaller congregations. In our church we experimented with service times, approaches to adult Sunday school, and evening service format (traditional services at church or fellowship groups in homes). Since not many attended anyway, we didn’t feel the constraint of blindsiding scores of visitors who had read a schedule in the yellow pages. When it comes to trying on new garments of ministry, smaller is beautiful.

When it comes to trying on new garments of ministry, smaller is beautiful.

Shadow churches have reason to celebrate the giants that shield them from the sun. Beside the benefits that are unique to their size, there are definite benefits smaller churches derive from their proximity to larger churches. Rick Ezell, who pastors the Southern Baptist church across the street from Calvary Church, has discovered this first hand. "A church like Calvary raises the level of interest in church attendance. Because it has so much going on, those who think of churches as boring, lifeless places have reason to change their uninformed opinions. We benefit from people who have decided going to church is a good thing to do after all."

Meanwhile, at the church I was pastoring, a string of people who had previously attended Calvary started to come—a big church was not the ideal fit for them. Because there was a megachurch in our area and they had attended it, they knew what they preferred. We benefited from the fact Calvary was in close proximity to our church. Those who transferred their membership did not leave Schmidgall’s congregation because they were upset or angry. Rather, they came because they decided that a small church would be a better place for them to thrive. Unlike some megachurches, we didn’t insist on passing an audition to sing in the choir. There were ready openings to teach Sunday school and children’s church. My wife and I could accept invitations for dinner after church the very week the invitation was extended. Our schedules were not booked for several Sundays in advance.

Another way bigger churches shield smaller ones is in the way they contend with city hall on regulations that impact religious institutions. The Nazarene church in Naperville is a thriving congregation that once struggled in the shadow of Calvary. After it began to experience dramatic numerical growth, the church’s attractive but modest facilities needed to be expanded. The excitement of the building program was curtailed a bit when the building committee discovered the city was assessing a hefty fee for increased traffic on the road in front of the church. Seeking a convincing argument for the rationale of the fee, the church leadership challenged the city. At the rate the church was growing, the traffic leading to the Nazarene church on Sunday mornings was noticeable. But it was not nearly as congested as morning and evening commute-hour traffic on Monday through Friday. After much deliberation the city council waived the fee. What is more, the Nazarene church’s challenge set in motion a reconsideration of fees churches had been routinely charged. Smaller churches that had previously gone through building programs were issued rebate checks. 

On a more practical level, smaller churches can be the direct beneficiaries of the community-wide ministry larger churches make possible. Calvary Church routinely brings in big-name Christian performers for citywide concerts. As pastor, this did not threaten me. I freely promoted the concert and chose to attend with members of our congregation. Calvary also hosts the Christian College Fair for high school students in our area. Admissions counselors from Christian schools all over the country help guide college-bound students to find God’s choice. I was grateful that we had a church in our town that could accommodate such an important event. The same gratitude could be given to the megachurches that host church-growth conferences, area Sunday school conventions, major youth rallies, and continuing education seminars for pastors.

In 1998, I was traveling in North Carolina when I got a call informing me that Bob Schmidgall had died of a heart attack at 55. I couldn’t believe it. I’d seen him just a few days before. We’d had coffee in the very restaurant in which he died. I was numb inside. The man I had once envied who had become my friend was dead. As I sat among 4,000 other mourners who attended Bob’s funeral at Calvary Church, I sensed the presence of the Lord in a profound way. My friend Bob was gone, but the Lord had allowed him to hang around long enough to help me gain a God-honoring perspective about pastors and churches with major league reputations. Singing praise songs and listening to Dick Foth, Rich Wilkerson, and others, I realized I was not among strangers. The members of Bob’s church were brothers and sisters. We were all part of God’s family. My church was not in competition with Calvary. We were branch offices of the same enterprise. Calvary’s was just a bit bigger with a larger staff.

This article was originally published in Enrichment Journal and has been adapted with permission.